Moment of Truth
by SCF2
Summary: It seems that nothing Alex does brings her any closer to home. So why is she still in 1982? And who is Gene Hunt? Protector or captor?


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**Summary: It seems that nothing Alex does brings her any closer to home. So why is she still in 1982? And who is Gene Hunt? Protector or captor?**

"What's with her?"

Chris looked up from his paperwork to find DCI Hunt standing over him. He followed his line of sight across the room to DI Drake. She sat slumped in her chair, staring at the wall to her left with one knee propped against her desk.

"Dunno, Guv," he admitted. "She's been like that for hours. Won't even answer her phone."

Gene grunted. "Get this down to evidence, will you?" he said, handing over a zip-lock bag with a bloodied address book inside it.

"Yes, Guv." Chris leapt up and bounded out of the office, happy to escape the general gloom that had hung over the place all day.

"Bolly," Gene said from across the room.

If she'd heard him, she didn't show it. Her eyes didn't even flicker his way.

"_Bolly_," he said, louder.

Nothing. He swept over to her desk, picked up her stapler and dropped it. It clattered loudly, knocking over a cup of pens. She jumped.

"Guv," she said, looking up at him. That was all. No indignant reproach, no pen thrown back at him, not even an angry frown.

"My office."

She followed him in and stood in front of his desk without turning around. He closed the door.

"I don't understand," she said quietly.

"Well no, you wouldn't," he said, clearly irritated. "I haven't opened my gob yet, have I?"

"No, I… I don't understand this," she said. Her voice was dull and monotonous. He walked around behind his desk and sat down. Her eyes, too, were dull. She gazed straight ahead. "Any of this. I don't know why I'm still here."

"You're here to do your bloody job, Bolly. Last time I checked, that meant catching scum and doing paperwork. So. We've caught the scum, now where's the paperwork?"

"Yeah," she said, frowning. "We caught the scum. I thought… I thought this was it. I really thought I was going home this time."

"Home? None of us are going home, Bols. I told you. Paperwork, then pub."

He might as well have not even been in the room. "I caught a serial killer. I'm a hero."

"And the rest of us are what, chopped liver? You're not the lone bleeding ranger, you know, Miss Hero."

"That man…" she said, finally looking at him. "Do you have any idea? Do you have any idea what he was going to do? For the rest of the eighties, most of the nineties…"

He frowned. "Well I know what he's going to do now. Rot in a very small cell whilst trying to avoid arse rape."

"That man, he – he killed… _dozens _of young girls. Right up until '96. Until they finally caught up with him outside Aberdeen. I thought this was it. I thought this was my ticket home." She took a few steps back and slumped against the wall, shaking her head. Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes shone with unshed tears. "What else do I have to do? It wasn't my parents… it wasn't Arthur Layton. It wasn't stopping the guns deal, or saving Shaz. What do I have to do? I don't understand."

"Bolly?"

She looked down at him. His mouth was set, but his eyes burned into hers. He was worried. She tried to say something that would alleviate his concern, but found she couldn't. None of it made sense, absolutely none of it. But sometimes… sometimes when he looked at her like that… there was something in his eyes. Something intelligent. Something aware.

"What do you know?" she whispered. Accused. Her tears finally spilled over. "What do you know that you're not telling me?"

He stared at her evenly. "Try making sense for once, you daft cow."

"You know something."

"I know lots of things, Bolly Knickers," he countered. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a fucking detective."

"Because here's the thing," she continued as if he hadn't spoken at all. "You always save me."

"Come again?"

"No matter what happens to me, no matter who – who kidnaps, or tries to kill me... you're there. Somehow. You're the one who brings me back. You keep saving my life."

"Good." He leaned back in his seat and propped his snakeskin boots up on the desk. "About time you started showing some gratitude. I accept most forms of payment, including gifts, cash and sexual favours."

"Is it you, Gene?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "Is it you keeping me here?"

He grimaced, but said nothing.

"Gene… please," she begged, moving to lean over his desk, her palms splayed out in front of her. She looked him straight in the eye. "Please. Please tell me. I need the truth. Are you keeping me here? Are you stopping me from leaving?"

He said nothing. They regarded each other silently for several long seconds. Finally she cracked, slamming her hands down on the desk.

"TELL ME!"

In a fraction of a second, he'd stood up and leant over the desk, mirroring her position so that they were almost nose to nose. She tried not to flinch, but he didn't miss her sharp intake of breath. When he spoke, his voice was lower and quieter than she'd ever heard it.

"I told you once," he said. "You don't leave until I say so. And I don't say so."


End file.
